One day I'll have it all. // Williamson

Bad news and good cuddles

The silence in the hospital room felt suffocating. We had been waiting for about ten minutes. It felt like ten hours.

Leah was holding my right hand, her forehead against my thigh. I didn't know if she was praying or if it was the fatigue of it all catching up on her.

At my left, Lotte was holding my second hand. She had insisted on coming with us to the hospital, saying that she needed to make sure I was okay, that she couldn't just leave me alone after what had happened.

I squeezed Lotte's hand, offering her a small smile of gratitude as I silently thanked her for her unwavering support and companionship. Despite the guilt and self-blame that still lingered in her eyes, I could see the genuine concern and care shining through, a testament to the deep bond of friendship that existed between us.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the door opened again, Leah's head immediately shooting up.

"Good evening, Mrs. Villa-"

"When can I play football again?" I immediately interrupted.

The doctor paused, momentarily taken aback by my abrupt question, before regaining her composure and offering me a sympathetic smile. "Good evening, Mrs. Villanueva. I understand your eagerness to return to the field, but we need to focus on your recovery first and foremost."

Leah's grip on my hand tightened as she shot me a concerned glance, her expression a silent plea for me to listen to the doctor's advice. Lotte, too, shifted uncomfortably in her seat, her eyes filled with worry as she waited for the doctor's diagnosis.

"We-"

"Is it broken..?" I interrupted the doctor again, my voice tinged with impatience and frustration as I sought answers to the questions weighing heavily on my mind.

The doctor nodded solemnly at my question, her expression sympathetic yet firm as she confirmed my suspicions. "Yes, I'm afraid so. You've sustained a severe ankle fracture, and it's going to require extensive treatment and rehabilitation to heal properly."

A heavy silence descended upon the room at the doctor's words, the gravity of my injury sinking in as I absorbed the reality of the situation. The thought of being sidelined for an extended period of time was devastating, my mind racing with fears and uncertainties about what the future held for me and my career.

"But when can I play again?" I pressed, my voice tinged with desperation as I clung to the hope of returning to the field as soon as possible.

"Baby, listen to the doctor." Leah pleaded, her voice filled with concern as she gently squeezed my hand, her eyes pleading with me to heed the doctor's advice and prioritize my health and well-being over my desire to return to the game. "Your health comes first, Val. We'll figure out the rest later."

The doctor offered Leah a grateful nod of acknowledgment, her expression softening as she recognized the depth of Leah's concern for my well-being. "Your wife is right, Mrs. Villanueva," the doctor affirmed, her tone gentle yet resolute as she addressed Leah directly. "Your health and recovery are our top priorities right now. It's important that we give her ankle the time and care it needs to heal properly before we even consider the possibility of returning to play."

Leah and I both blushed deeply at the doctor's words, while Lotte let out a hearty laugh, her head tilting back at our embarrassed reactions.

"We- we're not married." Leah stammered, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment as she glanced nervously between me and the doctor.

The doctor's eyes widened in surprise at Leah's revelation, her expression momentarily taken aback before she quickly regained her professional demeanor. "My apologies for the assumption," she replied, her tone apologetic yet understanding as she addressed Leah with a respectful nod. "Anyways. I'll estimate your healing time to twelve weeks for now. Could be less, could be more. We can't know for sure yet. Good news is, if you had needed surgery, which you don't, it could've taken a year or even two."